


Hesitant- Prompt 17

by Name1



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Late night talks, Light Angst, Past Injuries, Pre-Relationship, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23940085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Name1/pseuds/Name1
Summary: “What happened?” The question was out of his mouth before his brain could catch up with him.People had asked her that question over the years when she had to sleep in shared common spaces. It wasn’t the first time she had woken someone up with her nightmares, but it was the first time she even considered talking about it. She never talked about that day and she never would.If she never talked about it then why could she feel her lips moving? “It was a long time ago, you'll think it's stupid,” she said. She hesitated only then. The last thing she wanted was Din to think her weak.
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 97
Collections: The Mandalorian Ficathon — April 2020





	Hesitant- Prompt 17

**Author's Note:**

> Another day (late night) another prompt. The last one for the Ficathon I finished right at midnight.  
> I can't lie, this is the most rushed I have ever written something so please overlook typos and grammatical weirdness. I'll go back tomorrow and fix it :D

At least they’ll make it back for the rendezvous without her. ‘That'll probably be one of her last thoughts,’ she thinks. She was bleeding out on the forest floor in the middle of a war while the rest of her team of droppers was none the wiser. This was no time to be philosophical or metaphysical or whatever word her tired brain was looking for...... What was it that made a person anyway? When she dies would she really be gone? Her memories her experiences, everything that made her who she was? Is it stored only in your brain, this oily delicate organ housed in your skull, or was there more to it than that? Matter can neither be created or destroyed so would a part of her linger? Why was she questioning this now?

There was a niggling thought at the back of her mind. The kid, where was the kid? Was he okay? Was this a dream from her days as a dropper or was the dream a life where she met a kind man covered in armor who looked at her like she was _something_ and his fuzzy son. That sounded like a nice dream.....

There's no way she'll mange to get off this shithole planet but _they_ will; that's all that mattered. Her team, her squadron, the rag-tag bunch of misfits she was responsible for. Some battle-hardened to be sure, but some barely more than scared and angry kids, looking to seek revenge in the most self-destructive way they knew how. There was a special place in what was left of her heart for _them_ especially. They depended on her and at least she could die knowing she didn't let them down (her one minute of trusting stupidity aside). She tried to catalogue how bad the situation was, _logically_ , like she had been trained to. She felt the wet moss under her cheek, the rotting leaves and fern fronds under her body. The feeling of little harmless sugar ants crawling on her. Off course she felt the wound--likely a fatal one this time. Her luck had finally run out.

She'd die alone but at least she didn't drag anyone down with her. She’d take being alone rather than knowing someone risked themselves to stay with her. It was better this way. She didn't have to put on a brave face or hide her pain filled cries. _It fucking hurt_. The adrenaline had worn off and she was left with the seriousness of the wound and the loss of the analgesic properties her rush of endorphins had graciously provided her to give her the push she needed to get away from the villagers. She had tried to stitch it up herself, but the angle was horrible. She managed to get a few stitches to close the farthest points of torn flesh together, before trying to apply pressure to staunch the blood flow and encourage it to clot but she couldn't press hard enough by herself to do much good. She could feel her blood running warm down her chilled skin. Her lung felt like it was on fire and when she tried to breathe she could hardly draw air. She had to breathe shallowly just to stay conscious, but every time she inhaled it felt like her ribs were breaking. _Collapsed lung and broken rib maybe?_ She wondered if maybe that knife was laced with something, the way her head was so fuzzy. She could have sworn she had been here before, thinking these exact thoughts. Was this a nightmare? The same one she had time and time again? It must be……but it seemed so real.

‘Maybe she'll see her family again, the friends she had lost,’ she thought. Something about those words made her think about a metal helmet that concealed a face she had never seen but knew as well as her own. Those words made her think of a little green kid who plopped himself in her lap whenever she was at her most prickly and demanded she rub his ears until she couldn't help but find herself relaxed. 

Everything was so confused in her head. Was this a dream or was she just losing her mind due to blood loss? She opened her eyes again at the distinct rumbling sound of engines doing a tree top fly over. It was a rebellion ship. They never flew this low endless they had to risk an extraction. They must have found them. ‘ _Her team, her people were in that ship,_ ’ she thought, as she caught a glimpse of it pass over head as she rolled onto her back to be sure. 

She still had some fight left in her though.

She had to get up. She could survive this and get back to the Rebellion one way or another.

Din would be waiting for her. _Wait, Din? He wasn't there on this mission with her. She hasn't even met him yet, not for years to come. What the hell was going on?_

If this was the same forest dream she had hundreds of times before, why was it different this time.....? Din would be so mad if she gave up.

She sees a shadow move across her vision, blocking the sun and the treetops she had been focusing on and she hears her name. “Cara, Cara.”

‘I know that voice,’ she thinks to herself; the sound of a man's voice filtered through beskar. The shadowy form kneels next to her and just as she feels a hand touch her neck to feel for a weak pulse she hears, “soldier, you okay?”

She wakes up with a gasped cry. 

Din was awoken from sleep to the sound of the kid wailing. The little guy usually slept like a rock so he knew something must be wrong. Din scrambled to untangle himself from the blankets and fumbled around in the dark for his helmet. He placed it on his head just as he left his bunk and his eyes went straight to the empty metal carrier the kid slept in, but he was nowhere to be found. They were in the middle of space, no one could have taken him so where could he be? He was positive he had heard him cry out, he was sure of it. He looked around but he didn’t have to look far; he didn’t even need to take a step. He looked to his left and saw the kid’s tiny grumpy form sitting on the floor outside the door to Cara’s bunk and let out a sigh of relief. "You scared me kiddo, what's the matter?" Din felt himself relax seeing the kid was just grumpy at being awake and not harmed. "Did you fall out of your bed?"

The kid let out an anxious sounding chirp and looked between Din and the door to Cara's room, as if he could see through it to the restless occupant inside.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me kid,” Din states firmly, not upset at the kid’s lack of speech but still wishing he could anticipate his needs better. It had gotten better the more in tune with each other they got, but he still felt like he was just guessing most of the time.

The kid wasn’t pleased with Din’s assessment of the situation and he let out a more distressed chirp and looked between Din and Cara’s door once again, this time his ears drooping slightly.

“Is something wrong with Cara?” he asks the sleep ruffled kid, noticing how the fuzzy hairs on his head were in a greater state of disarray than usual. Big shiny eyes blinked at him knowingly before looking back at Cara’s door again in answer.

The kid’s abilities were multifaceted and Din was sure they had barely managed to scratch the surface of them so he trusted the kid when he seemed to know something he didn’t. It was the middle of the night, so she probably wasn't injured but maybe she was sick or something. She cleaned her knives in her room but not this late at night, and he knew she wouldn't slip up and nick herself in the process. She was meticulous about the few weapons she owned outright, not to mention the ones they shared, and she was skilled in taking care of them. Whatever it was that awoke the fuzzy kid from his slumber, it was enough for him to wake up worried and Din wouldn’t brush it off.

_*Knock knock_ *

He tapped his knuckles gently against her door frame.

-No answer-

He put his head against her door to listen. He could hear her muttering.

"Cara," he tried again to get her attention, "You okay?"

-No answer-

He could hear her mumbling so she was clearly awake. Why wasn’t she answering? He’d never invade her privacy, but he just needed to assure himself and the kid everything was fine. ‘ _Mostly the kid’s peace of mind,’ he told himself._

He opened her door and the low-level light illuminated her face from where it poured in though the crack of the door. She wasn’t awake after all, Din noticed. She was tossing and turning; practically thrashing in some invisible fight under her bedsheets. She was having a nightmare.

"Cara," he repeated, louder this time, in an effort to rouse her.

He reached out to lightly grasp her ankle to try to wake her up but she kicked so hard and unexpectedly it was pure chance she didn’t break his wrist with the force she put behind it even in her sleep.

"Cara," he said less hesitantly this time. "Wake up." He never said her name that firmly, but he wanted her to wake up. 

"Cara. Cara!"

She sat upright with a gasp so suddenly that Din actually jumped back in surprise. Her eyes were wild as she looked around taking in her surroundings until her eyes fell on him.

"Din?" she asked, like she couldn’t quite believe he was actually there. She sounded relieved too, but he could think about that later.

"You were having a nightmare," he tried to explain in simple words so her brain could catch up with the sudden change in function from sleep to wakefulness. "The kid was freaked out."

"Shit,” she said, as she willed her breathing to return to normal. She seemed to understand what had happened and why he was standing at the foot of her bed much quicker than he would have expected. She scrubbed a hand over her face and spoke again. "Yeah. Shit. I have that dream sometimes. ‘ _Goddamn that forest_ ,’ she thought to herself. “Sorry I woke you both up."

He just stood there. He didn’t really think this out. _Wake her up and then what?_

"You want some water?" he asked, to give her some privacy and give himself something to do instead of stand there like an idiot.

She was still getting her bearings, but her eyes were no longer darting around her familiar room like she had never seen it before. She was waking up. She looked less like a cornered animal and more like a cornered human. He took a step back to give her room to breathe. 

"Yeah, I need to get up anyway. I won’t be going back to sleep tonight. I never do." She had suffered that dream or memory really hundreds of times before. She threw the blankets back and crawled toward the edge of the bed. Din busied himself getting a glass ( _her glass_ -the green one with a chip missing) from the cabinet and filling it with water to give her some semblance of privacy as she came back to herself. She took longer than he expected, and he heated up some water as well while he waited. Tea would be better than water anyway; no stimulant in it but it was warm and sweet in a comforting way a glass of water wasn’t.

‘What does he do now?’ he thinks. _Leave her alone? Pretend it didn’t happen? Ask her about it?_

She emerged from her room a minute later after splashing some water on her face in the sink and stopped to pick up the kid who was waiting at her door with his arms raised- a universal sign he wanted to be picked up. He was getting so spoiled and she was the main culprit.

“You can go back to sleep now, Din. Thanks for waking me up,” she says sincerely. She hates that dream not matter how many times she has it. “I’ll stay up with him until he falls asleep again,” she assures him. “You sure are sensitive little guy, aren’t you?” she talks sweetly to the kid in her arms.

Standing there, Din was afforded his first real look at her. She was soaked in sweat and her hair was an absolute mess where she was tossing and turning. She looked sleep rumpled and yet somehow still stunningly beautiful with sweat clinging to her skin and pooling in dark patches on her shirt.

“He must have sensed your fear in his sleep,” Din said. She wanted to scoff and balk at that claim, deny it outright- _she wasn’t scared_. But why deny it when it was so obviously true?

This was Din, she thought. He’d never use it against her. Every ounce of her wanted to run back to her bunk but he was really trying to help and she appreciated the effort; no one _ever_ made an effort for her like he did. He could almost convince her she was worth it. 

“Whatever it was,” he says, “it was just a dream. It can’t hurt you. But I don’t have to tell you that…..I’m sure you already know.”

“It’s wasn’t a dream like _that_. I wasn’t being chased by a giant shoe or forgetting about an exam I didn’t study for in school. It was more of a memory of something that happened, and I just keep reliving it.”

“What happened?” The question was out of his mouth before his brain could catch up with him.

People had asked her that question over the years when she had to sleep in shared common spaces. It wasn’t the first time she had woken someone up with her nightmares, but it was the first time she even considered talking about it. She never talked about that day and she never would.

If she never talked about it then why could she feel her lips moving? “It was a long time ago, you'll think it's stupid,” she said. She hesitated only then. The last thing she wanted was Din to think her weak. He thought she was strong, a formidable warrior, and he had even relied on her strength from time to time. The thought that he would see her as scared was completely unacceptable to her. But he had also opened himself up to her letting her live with him and become a part of this makeshift family that had come to mean everything to her; she wanted to show him she could be open too. It wasn’t that she felt she owed him, _that was ridiculous_ , but she wanted to _give_ him something-share something with him.

‘ _Maybe asking about it was the wrong thing to say_ ,’ Din thought. He didn’t want her to relive something painful on his account. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I won't think it's stupid.” He didn’t mean to sound demanding or intrusive; he respected her above all else. 

The hesitation to open herself up to ridicule from another person was a strong instinct to overcome, but if there’s anyone she would do it for it was Din. _This idiot who somehow managed to look guilty without her even being able to see his face_. “It’s not that I don’t _want_ to I just don’t know how. It’s not something I’m exactly proud of or something I’ve ever told anyone about before, but if you want to hear the gist of it, I’ll give it a shot.”

“When was it?” he asked, trying to engage her. “You said a long time ago, but it wasn’t that time I tried to cook that meat in the pressure cooker was it? Did it really turn out bad enough to give you nightmares?”

She smiled as she remembered the exact dinner catastrophe he was referring to. “It was pretty nightmare-inducing, but no, that’s not it.” She appreciated him giving her a chance to change the subject if this one was too loaded for her. Their lame jokes and easy humor had always been something she enjoyed, as early as when she first realized he used humor when things got heavy just as she did. They walk toward the most comfortable surface in the main cabin and sit down. Talking or not, they could use some quiet time as they relax once again for bed. Her shoulder brushes against his as she forces herself to adopt a more relaxed posture with her shoulders leaning against the back of the bench they called a couch. It was cushioned but a simple design of seating and backing without any additional design-very utilitarian. Din unfolded the blanket that rested over the back of the couch and spread it out over them to stave off the cold at night.

Once they were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, the kid resting in her lap, she inhaled and exhaled slowly through her nose before she opened her lips to speak. She was staring straight ahead but he was looking patiently at her face waiting for her to begin. She could feel his patience and his attention on her, but it was the affection she felt more than anything else that bolstered her as she finally spoke.

“It was back during the war,” she started simply. “It couldn’t have been more than 6 months after I enlisted.

“I signed my name on every paper they put in front of me with a smile on my face. I wanted to kill Imps and they promised me I could and even put a shiny new gun in my hand. Let me tell you what an example of moral fiber I was with all the anger that was bottled up inside me. I followed their orders about as well I take orders now.” He chuckled at her description of herself. Trying to get Cara to do something she didn’t believe in was like herding Loth-cats.

Din nods along as he thinks of a younger Cara- angry, hurt, and hell-bent on seeking revenge without a care for her own well-being. He understood that feeling all too well.

“I bet you were nothing but a model soldier.” He says it to make her laugh, but he was sure she had been magnificent.

He gets the laugh he had been trying for. “Let me tell you, I was a real sweetheart.”

“I can imagine.”

She couldn’t believe she was actually going to describe her dream to him, _but what the hell_. 

“It was during the beginning of the war, when I still trusted people like a naïve idiot, and I got myself stabbed to show for it.” Okay, she did it. She said it out loud. ‘ _That wasn’t so bad_ ,’ she thought. She didn’t even notice but her hand had drifted to rest over the old injury that was still aching in phantom pain from her dream.

“You’re holding your chest,” he observed. “Is it the scar on your ribs?”

Damn Din and his eye for details and actually listening when she tells him things. “Yeah, it's the same place you have a scar,” she says, hoping that putting the focus back on him will be sufficient for her to call it a night.

Din’s not buying it. _What did she leave out?_ “So, you got stabbed,” he said. “I’m sure it must have been really painful, but something tells me there’s more to the story than that though.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” she thinks. She can at least give him some context without telling him the whole embarrassing shit-show.

“It was maybe my 20th drop by that point, but I was the leader of the squad by then. It didn't take many months to move up from a grunt, I assure you. You can imagine the turnover of droppers was insanely high. Officer turnover was just as high,” she said, “at least those that were actually in the shit with the fighting and not those cowards who hid behind a computer terminal.” He can hear the disgust in her voice at those who _watched_ instead of _ did_. “I was physically fit, young, stupid but not _too_ stupid, carried a grudge against those bastards, and could get people to do what I wanted- natural leader material right?” She gestured to herself with her hands and her voice was laden with sarcasm.

She said it so sarcastically, as if she couldn’t see why they chose her to command people under her, but Din couldn’t help but recognize that she _was_ in fact a natural leader. She didn’t just _say_ , she _did_. She was someone you wanted to impress, someone you wanted to be like. Someone who could instill confidence and inspire bravery and convince you that you had a chance even when the odds were poor. She didn’t sit around and wait for shit to get done. She got the job done and she’d never ask someone to do something she wasn’t willing to do herself. She was every bit a natural leader, but this was her story so he stayed quiet.

“I was scouting out the location of an old Imperial bunker that was used to transmit data so I could blow it straight to Hell. My team had already taken out the heavy artillery hidden throughout the forest but it took longer than we thought to get close enough for me to set all the charges along the perimeter. The return ship would break atmosphere in another 6 hours so I sent my team ahead to trek back to the drop point and to get them away from the blast. I was the leader, so I stayed behind to get the job done and promised I’d catch up with them back at the rendezvous point by go-time. I’d done something similar a dozen times before without issue and no one thought twice about it.

“My digital map projector must have been damaged by either the blast or all the moisture in the air because it went on the fritz. Luckily, I had memorized a good portion of the geography beforehand, so I just had to get near a landmark to get my bearings.” The thought of Cara alone in the forest with her locator on he fritz made Din’s stomach feel tight, as if he could somehow go back in time and help her.

“I was smart enough to stay in the woods, but I had to chance crossing a large clearing to get to the top of a hill I knew would give me a better vantage point.” Din didn’t like what he knew was coming. “Long story short, I was approached by a group of villagers who seemed nice enough and asked if I was alright. I felt something was amiss but tamped it down and ignored my instincts thinking I was just paranoid. I was wisely hesitant to trust them, but I overrode it; a mistake I haven’t made since.

“They asked where I was headed, and I at least had the wherewithal to throw them off my trail. We were taught if you ever have to ask for directions to pick a landmark the exact opposite direction where your actual final destination is. That way you know the _opposite_ direction to walk and no one knows your plan. I knew there was a small collection of shrines exactly due West from the drop point so I asked them where the temple grounds were. I told them some bullshit about how I had always wanted to see it, but it was clear I wasn’t a tourist in my uniform. They politely gave me directions and one of the women even pulled out a piece of paper to draw a map. Next thing I knew I saw a glint of metal and was able to deflect a knife to the throat. I took out maybe five of the eight with my blaster before I made a run for it. My chest was on fire though and somehow I managed to retreat back into the woods a good ways before I realized I had been stabbed in the ribs as I blocked the first knife. I stitched myself up the best I could, but the blood flow was just too heavy and I blacked out maybe only a mile from the drop site. I knew I was a goner but when I woke up I was in a Rebellion field hospital. My team had come back for me when I missed the rendezvous and found me at great risk to themselves. I could have murdered all of those sentimental idiots for that stunt…..” She almost never spoke of her time as a dropper, but Din was surprised to hear affection in her voice as she talked of that time and the people she knew. He figured it was a terrible time she only wanted to forget, but there seemed to be some fond memories there as well.

“It wasn’t until later I found out the temple I mentioned was destroyed with Imperial gun ships only hours after I mentioned it to the villagers. They were Imperial sympathizers and fed the information to higher ups who in-turn destroyed the temple and hundreds of locals all on the off chance a rebelling squadron was nearby. If I had given a different landmark things might have been very different, maybe no one would have died. I didn’t know it was surrounded by villages. I drew them away from the rendezvous point but at what cost? Fifteen of us versus hundreds of them? Killing the very people we were trying to protect…..?”

“You couldn’t have known that they would sell you out,” Din said gently. “They must have believed the Empire was acting in their best interest. You can’t hold yourself responsible for other people’s beliefs.”

She nods, still lost in thought. “They must have fallen for that load of shit about the Empire turning everything it touches to gold. What a load of shit, but these people were poor and desperate and were willing to believe anything that would get them back on their feet. The Empire had convinced them the Rebellion was behind their failing economy and the blasts that destroyed their farmland and livestock. They hated us, even when we were trying to help free them and they ended up destroying their own people in an effort to eradicate us.”

Whenever they talked about anything important, they sat side by side so they didn't have to look in the eyes; it made it easier somehow, so he observed her from the side. Her pupils were still dilated, and her pulse was beating fast under her skin. The thermal sensor in his helmet showed her face, neck, and chest were hot as she seemed to reach the end of her story. Her body was routing blood away from the extremities in an effort of self-preservation in times of stress. Her eyes were unfocused as she clearly saw something in the distance he couldn't see; some ghost that held her attention and wouldn't let her look away. That haunting look on her face unsettled him. He didn't want to see her a slave to any memory or ghost, no matter the origin. He wondered what she was seeing as she stared unblinking into the space near the galley. It wasn't until his hand squeezed hers to try to bring her back that he saw her blink once, then twice. 

He has no clue what possessed him to speak. He'll look back at this moment years from now and remember it was like an outside force made his lips move and sound come out. What was it about her that made him run his mouth? Before he met her, he could go weeks without ever saying a word, traveling deep space by himself between jobs and now he couldn't seem to shut up. 

“I have nightmares too you know,” he said as if it was a perfectly normal thing to talk about in the dead of night. “I'm surprised I haven't woken you up with them actually. Or maybe you’re just too nice to draw attention to it.” He knew the quickest way to throw her off or distract her was to call her out on her kindness. She never filed to bristle and argue when he did. They could be in the middle of diffusing a detonator and she would stop to correct him if he said she was kind or ‘sweet’ or ‘nice’, any of those ' _insults_ ' she felt had no place describing her.

The conversation came to a comfortable lull and they enjoyed the silence they shared sitting together.

Din found himself speaking again when it seemed her story had come to a conclusion. “You don't talk about the war much. That's probably why it shows up in your dreams.” 

“I’ve relived that day hundreds of times,” she said. “It was actually different this time though; you and the kid were there for the first time. I could hear your voice. That’s never happened before.”

He was glad he was there with her in whatever context. He didn’t like the thought of her alone in the forest believing her team had left without her.

She rests her head against his shoulder in an impressive display of forced relaxation. “Sorry again, for waking you up,” she says as she closes her eyes and settles down to go to sleep against his arm. “I have recurring nightmares too,” he replied, trying to reassure her. “You don't have to apologize.”

_Should she ask? Don’t do it Cara. Don’t you dare._

“What are _your_ nightmares about.”

“The day the Mandalorians saved me and took me in. The day my family was killed by the Empire. It’s not a coherent series of events like yours but I remember more of a collection of smells, sounds, and images. In my dream I can still hear the loud noises, the explosions, the droids and their blasters. The sound of shrapnel taking chunks out of concrete is clear as day as if I was right there again. I can smell the acidity of burnt charges and burning wood. I remember feeling being jostled over my father’s shoulder as they ran holding me, trying to keep my face down, but I was a dumb kid and I wanted to see what was happening.”

He swallowed before he said the next words she knew were coming.

“I wish I hadn’t.”

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the image his words were painting.

“I remember the blinding ray of sunlight when they lowered me into a storage cellar and the last look I got of their faces as they shut the door. They were wearing red, I think. .... I should have asked them to stay with me, but I didn’t say anything.”

“I remember sitting in the dark hearing everything outside--that was probably the worst part-- hearing the explosions getting closer, even with the sound muffled, and knowing I was a sitting duck. 

“The rest isn't part of the dream. I remember the Mandalorian who found me, took my hand and got me to safety. I remember seeing the fighting the destruction and carnage from the air after that.” 

She wasn’t sure she had ever heard Din speak this long uninterrupted before. He needed to get this off his chest, that much was clear, so she just sat and listened.

He continued.“As an adult, I know how to shoot a gun, I know how to fight. I know battle tactics and strategy for taking down an opponent bigger and better armed than you are, but in the dream I'm still a kid. The feeling of having adult thoughts in a kid’s body is the worst kind of helpless; the kind where you know what to do but you’re helpless to make it happen.” 

She regretted asking him about his dream as soon as he finished speaking. He had obviously just relived it yet again to tell her about it and she wished she had just kept her mouth shut. She could at least make an attempt at comforting him, it was the least she could do after he comforted her.

“You’re not helpless anymore Din. And I _know_ that you know there's nothing you could have done, but I'm going to say it again anyway. She actually turns to face him and looks where she knows his eyes located behind the dark surface he sees through. “There was _nothing_ you could have done. They couldn't have stayed with you; they wanted to keep you hidden, to lead them away from you. They made the right call if even though a painful one. You were just a kid. Grown adults couldn't fight of those droids. I understand your misplaced guilt though, too well sometimes.”

He actually chuckles. “it was thirty years ago and I still feel helpless when I wake up from that dream. I’ve never told anyone about it.”

“Not even the family that took you in? she asks with a hint of real surprise. “Is it not allowed to talk about your birth family in your culture?”

He shakes his head and the very little light in the cabin reflects of his helmet softly as he does. “It's not that it isn't _allowed_ , it just seemed disrespectful for some reason to talk about another family and selfishly it was the last memory I had of them, even if it haunted me; I didn’t _want_ to share it and give away a part of them.”

“I’m sorry I asked you about it then. I shouldn’t have ma---"

“Don’t be sorry,” he insisted, actually sounding surprisingly happy despite the topic they had just discussed. “I’m glad you asked and I’m glad I told you. I never thought I’d say this, but it makes it kind of less intense saying it out loud. And sharing it with _you_ doesn’t seem like I lost anything, quite the opposite in fact.”

Din continues. “I know you can’t hold yourself responsible for your parents’ actions and as a parent I understand their sacrifice better than I ever did. I know they wouldn’t want me to feel guilty about surviving, but it’s hard.”

Cara chimed again. “You've helped so many other kids because they helped you. But even if you hadn't, you've definitely helped one,” she says, as she glances down at the sleeping face of the little green baby that had long since lost interest in their conversation and fallen back asleep. “Would you want _him_ feeling guilty if you died protecting him so he could live a better life?”

“Of course not,” he says easily, not even needing to think twice about it. That kid deserved everything.

“See?” she said knowingly, and for the first time in the last hour he saw a grin beginning to form on her face. _She loved being right._

“I’ll admit it, you _can_ be right from time to time Dune,” he says indulgently. “You might not hear me ever say it again, but you _can_ be right.” He watches her grin spread up her face and he feels relieved to see it. “You have to take your own advice though. You don't get to feel guilty either then. You did the best you could, better than anyone would have done in your position.”

Normally she would brush it off and adamantly refuse, but she actually looks like she’s thinking about what he said. “Maybe....”

“Maybe is good for now but I'll convince you one day though,” he promises. “You did the best you could with the shit situation you were handed. You kept more people alive than someone else would have, I'm sure of it, and those people didn't die for nothing. The Empire isn’t gone, but it's on its knees and you had a hand to play in that. After I got over getting my ass kicked I was so in awe of you when we first met….you have no idea.”

“Shut up.” She laughs, and smacks his arm. She takes a sip of her tea, barely warm by now, but the gesture that he had made it for her was all the warmth she needed.

Din too raised up his helmet to take a sip of his own tea. The kid was asleep and he knew she wouldn’t look. _Sure enough, her head is turned when he looks at her again._

“Want to look at some pictures?” he offered, as a suggestion if she was tired but couldn’t or didn’t want to risk sleep. “I have quite a few I haven’t deleted for stake-outs and reconnaissance. You can try to guess which planet they were taken on. It’ll be fun”

“Do you happen to have any of me in there?” Cara asked with a mischievous voice.

He pretends like he didn’t hear that. He had captured only a few images of her while she wasn’t paying attention and there was nothing even remotely inappropriate about them but still…. they were candid moments she would make fun of him for holding onto: An image of her asleep in a horribly uncomfortable chair while the kid slept drooling on her shirt. A picture of her cleaning her blaster on the ramp of the Crest backlit with a fiery orange sunset behind her. A picture in profile of her all-out grinning at the control panel after feeding a fake landing code to the space port he had bet her would never let them land.

He changes the subject. “Want to go through inventory? That'll put you to sleep. Or we can take all the ammo out of the cases and make sure there's really 144 rounds per box.” 

_She was no idiot._

“I will see that picture you have of me one day. And it better not be unflattering or so help me Din….”

“Stop fishing for compliments. You know you’re incapable of taking an unflattering picture.”

She’s still smiling as she shifts on the couch from sitting beside him to laying down on her side as she gets comfortable. The couch is short though and she has to curl her legs in and rest her head on his thigh to fit. The kid nestles against her belly as she curls in on herself. She moved Din’s arm out of her way as she made herself comfortable and he found his arm frozen mid-air as he decided what to do with it once she had settled down. He hesitates for quite some time before he lowers his hand and lets it fall hesitantly atop her head, her thick dark hair under his fingertips. He lets his hand indulgently rest against the softness he almost never gets to touch as he waits for her to complain or pull away. When she does neither he lets his fingers start to move, slowly combing through the strands and working out any tangles he comes across as he goes. The ever-present braid was taken out before bed and that side of her hair is wild everywhere it spills over his leg. There’s a telltale crinkle where the plait was though, like a memory he could see of where the strands laid over each other. ‘When did they get this comfortable with each other?’ he thinks. He couldn’t remember a precise moment, but he was grateful this woman had stuck by his side through the river of shit he had led her into. “I'm glad you made it…..,” he said, as it became clear she didn’t protest his touch and in fact relaxed with his encroachment into her personal space. “……back then I mean. That you were so strong, you know…….” He says and trails off as he hadn’t thought how he should end that thought.

“It wasn’t strength. I was just too stubborn to die that day,” she answered, unfailingly unable to accept a compliment about how amazing she truly was. One day he would make her see what he saw when he looked at her.

“ _You_ …. stubborn? I can’t believe it.” She smacked him in the leg but instead of pulling her hand back, she let it linger on his knee. He reached out to hold her hand when it was clear she had no intentions of pulling it away.

She hunkered down against him and snuggled into the soft fabric of his sleeping pants. “Cara, it's late, you're falling asleep. You should go to bed.”

“You coming too?” she asks.

“Yeah, come on,” he encourages her, as he uses his hand to pull her up to stand. 

“Shit, it's cold in here,” are the first words out of her mouth as she stands, leaving the cocoon of warmth they had cultivated together on the couch under the blanket.

“Come here,” he says, as he puts blanket around her shoulders and pulls her closer to keep her warm. He feels her shiver against him and he’s sure it must be from the sweat soaked shirt and shorts she’s wearing and nothing more. She mumbles pleasantly into his neck in a way he refuses to let him himself enjoy and she makes the most pleased rumbling sound as she settles into his embrace that feels like more than just the simple act of transferring heat. “You’re soft and warm,” she says, against the space where his neck meets his shoulder. “I like the armor but I like it when you're soft too.”

He chuckles. “Yes, thank you for that,” he says, still smiling where she can’t see it. “That's _exactly_ what every man wants to hear. ‘You're soft.’”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew what was coming. He felt her lips curl up at the edges where they were pressed against his neck. 

“You're absolutely right. I like it when you’re _hard_ too. Here, let me find a better spot that’s not so soft.” She's shameless in how she rubs against him, knowing he enjoyed their game of innuendo-laced teasing as much as she did.

He has to pull his hips back before it's too late. “You're the worst, Dune. Go to sleep.” He was proud of how steady his voice sounded when he felt anything but steady looking at the grin on her face and her bright eyes that were finally happy again. ‘ _That was because of you, you did that_ ’ a little voice in the back of his head insisted.

He can't think about the way the word ‘ _hard_ ’ sounded as it left her lips with her pressed up against him like this. 

“You want me to stop?” She asked him, unsure sometimes if her teasing actually bothered him or not.

“Not on your life.”

She laughs and it’s like the whole somber mood of the night instantly vanished. “Okay, okay. I’ll go to bed. You're coming too, right?”

“Yeah, let me put the kid back down.” He made to extract him from his sleeping place in her arms, but she didn’t let go.

“Just let him sleep with us.” 

“Okay,” he conceded, before his brain finally caught up. He thought she asked if he was coming to bed _too_ , not coming to bed _with her_. Was he coming with her?

“Come on Din, hurry up before I freeze my toes off.” He can see her bare feet and her toes curled against the metal floor. She briefly thought how much she must have been sweating and how she should probably change the sheets, but she was too tired to be bothered.

Din stands there unsure if her invitation was sincere, until she pulls him to follow her with her free hand not holding the sleeping kid. He watches her lay the kid down on her pillow and get comfortable under the covers before he climbs into the bed beside her in the tight quarters.

“Your feet are like ice, Cara” he practically yelps when she pushes her bare feet between his calves where his sleep pants have ridden up.

“I told you they were freezing, warm me up.” His helmet comes off in the dark and they shift around under the blanket to make sure her feet are warm between his legs and that Din’s feet are also covered where they extend further down the bed than hers. It takes some rearranging before the blanket meant for one covers the pair of them sufficiently. There’s no regret that they have to huddle close together to make it work either.

She doesn’t seem relaxed enough for sleep but maybe she’s just worried about dreaming again. “I don’t think you’ll have any more nightmares, but I'll wake you up if you do,” he assures her, so she can fall asleep without worry. 

“How will you know if you’re asleep?” she asks, her waking logic starting to leave her.

“I'll stay awake for a while,” he assured her. “I’ll make sure you make it to deep sleep before I fall asleep too. I'm pretty awake now anyway, don’t worry about it.” He couldn’t help but try to downplay the gesture to let her save face.

“But you'll stay?” she confirmed before she would let herself drift off. She didn't want him quietly making his way out of the room once she fell asleep.

“Yes, I'll stay if you want me to.” She didn’t have to ask him twice.

“Good.” She pulls his arm over her and clamps down so his hand rests against the top of her chest. “Try leaving now.”

He thought about giving a tug to make a playful attempt at getting his arm back but though better of it and tried another tactic. “Good luck kicking me out, you mean,” he says, challengingly. “Your bed is better than mine is, I might never leave.”

“If it makes you feel any better Din, I don't think you'll have that dream any more either. Once you talk about it, it loses the hold it has over you.” Cara’s words are sleepy, but he can hear the sincerity in them.

“I hope you're right,” he says, as he closes his eyes. It’s strange, but knowing that Cara’s heard about his worst dream and wasn’t frightened by it made it seem less scary.

“You must be _really_ tired,’ she observed jokingly, “or you’d know I'm always right about everything.” 

He huffed a laugh at her. “I want to disagree with you, but I can't. I'm too warm and comfortable to fight.” 

She jumped all over that

“So what you’re saying is….. I just have to get you in my bed every night from now on. I can do that.” She sounds pretty pleased with coming up with that solution.

He tries to hide his excitement and surge of happiness at the way her words settled promisingly into the back of his mind. “I could do that too,” he says in return his voice lower and thicker with emotion than it was before.

The kid let's out a particularly loud snore and they both laugh. 

Din sighed before stating the obvious. “I think that's our cue to go to sleep.”

“Mmmm, okay” she said, her voice sleepy and comfortable.

A few minutes passed and just when he thought she had fallen asleep he heard her voice again quiet as she said, “I like this a lot.”

“Me too.” Din liked all of it. The closeness, the stories of their pasts finally shared and unable to haunt them anymore, the smell of her bedsheets, the kid sleeping at their heads, the warmth of her against him and the feeling of his arm wrapped around her for sleep. He felt drowsy and brave with sleep and affection for this woman in his arms. “Can we do this again?”

“You free tomorrow?” She answered back, cheeky even when exhausted.

“I'll clear my calendar,” he said. “What could be better than sharing a bed with a beautiful woman who begged and begged and pleaded with me to sleep with her.”

The loudest snort came from her side of the bed at that. “I don't recall any _begging_. You need to get your ears checked.”

“You were _thinking_ it.” He was waking back up at having to use his brain to keep up with her.

“What I'm _thinking_ would make you blush.”

The snort came from his side of the bed that time. He moves his palm up so it's lays flush against the smooth expanse of her chest, fingers brushing her collarbone. He hears her breath pick up and he moves his hand up to caress her neck. He leans in to mutter right against her ear, “your skin feels pretty warm to me, I bet you’re blushing too.”

“Maybe you just make me hot all over,” she says, lowering her voice. She reaches behind her to feel his hair with her hand and it feels so good under her fingertips she can’t bring herself to pull it back.

“I thought we're supposed to be sleeping,” he says, as her fingers drag against his scalp in the most surprisingly pleasant sensation he had ever felt.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said in a whisper so quiet he had to strain to hear her.

He wasn’t sure what she meant. Did she mean _here_ as in bed with her, or _here_ in the ship traveling and living together? Or did she mean something deeper like being here for her when she needed him? In the moment of hesitation that he paused to figure out her words she had turned her head to face him in the dark. Her hand was still stretched behind her where her fingers caressed the back of his head as they ran through his hair. She craned her neck toward him and raised her chin as she reached to place a soft kiss against where she thought his cheek would be, only missing slightly, to brush her lips chastely against the corner of his mouth. The room was silent, which only accentuated the sound of the sharp inhale of air as their lips barely touched.

His lips were smooth and soft- _so soft_ , though dry. She couldn’t help herself as she wet her lips and kissed him again, intentionally this time, moving her mouth slightly to the left to get more of his lips squarely under hers. It was clear she didn’t miss the second time and she held her breath waiting to see if he would push her away or not. Instead, Din met her in the middle and by the third press of their mouths together their lips were fully aligned, no longer under the guise of a cheek-kiss gone awry.

His mouth was so warm, so soft, so pliant under hers as he returned the kiss. It was perfect; sweet, and gentle, and so easy; like it had been on the verge of happening forever and they finally stopped fighting it and just let it happen. She figured their first kiss would have been some passionate, lust-filled desperate devouring of one another, driven to the brink by months of unsubtle flirting and teasing, until one (or likely both) of them snapped. But this was hesitant. It was questioning and unsure and filled with longing and desire finally surrendered to. How did they get here from waking up in the middle of the night to their lips brushing together for the first time?

He shifted on his side, and she rolled over just enough to meet him as his hand moved to cup her jaw to deepen the kiss. Her mouth opened under his and she couldn’t even begin to fight the moan that somehow escaped despite how completely his mouth covered hers. She pulled on his shoulders so that he rested more fully against her as they kissed again, unhurried and leisurely. A moment of this kind of luxury didn’t come along often and she would enjoy every second of it.

The feel of her neck and the softness of her cheek under his hand anchored him and he found he had to focus on only _that_ feeling and not the feel and taste of her mouth or the warmth of her breath against his cheek as her breathing sped up as they got carried away. She felt the coarse hair of his face rough against her cheeks and her chin and it burned so deliciously she forgot this was supposed to a gentle first kiss and not something more. She angled her face closer to his and opened her mouth, hoping he would get the hint as her hands moved to his neck to kiss him more firmly. The warm slide of his tongue brushing against hers made her head dizzy and the blood rushing in her ears made her glad they were already lying down. The pool of heat that had settled in her stomach started moving lower in her abdomen as his tongue grew more bold with every pass, moving more firmly against hers.

From somewhere above their heads, the kid let out another especially loud snore and they pulled their faces back enough to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Way to ruin the mood kid,” Din said, with more affection than chastisement in his voice.

“He’s lucky he’s so cute, that’s for sure.” Cara’s voice also held nothing but affection for the kid who lived to keep them on their toes.

“So, are we going back to the normal level of awkward and oblivious tomorrow like usual or ………?” Din asked.

“Well, maybe not quite as oblivious. Why, are you suggesting we try something else?”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But I'm so comfortable I can't remember how to form words,” Din said as he buried his face into her hair at the back of her neck. “I think the ‘ _something else_ ’ includes forming sentences with coherent thoughts and words like functional adults.”

“I can pretend to be a functional adult but I’m not sure I can pretend to forget you kissing me.”

“Excuse me? _You_ kissed _me_ ,” he said, in mock outrage at her willful mis-remembering of the situation.

“Semantics,” she said, and he could hear the grin in her voice. “Words are stupid,” she says, “just keep your arm around me all night.”

“I will.”

“That's all I need then.”

“Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading. Leave a comment if you enjoyed. They make my day! You all make my day!
> 
> See you in a week or two picking back up with the next to last chapter of the series.


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